


The Art of Deduction

by AlexHunt



Series: The Unexpected Heiress [3]
Category: Choices - Fandom, PlayChoices, The Unexpected Heiress (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexHunt/pseuds/AlexHunt
Summary: Synopsis: Mr. John is enjoying a quiet afternoon when Christie pays him a surprise visit and shares her favorite books with him.*Takes place after chapter four
Relationships: John Somerset/Christine Jane Hayes, John Somerset/Main Character (The Unexpected Heiress), John Somerset/Original Character(s)
Series: The Unexpected Heiress [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859905
Kudos: 2





	The Art of Deduction

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“Mr. John,” Christie called upon her approach, not wanting to startle the man sitting thoughtfully. He had mentioned during the tour of the house and grounds on the first night that the garden was his favorite place. This particular spot near the water seemed to spark joy as they passed it. “I had hoped I’d find you here.” **  
**

The man cleared his throat before turning toward her. “And so you’ve found me, Miss Hayes. Though I can’t imagine why you would be looking for me.”

“May I sit?” 

He stood, gesturing his hand forward for her to take a seat, before returning to the bench himself once she had settled. “I thought you and Francis had plans.”

“We did, unfortunately, they had to be cut short.”

“I see.”

Her thumb caressed the red spine of the fabric-bound hardcover book that she hugged against her. Her gaze shifted out across the gardens. She marveled at the light glistening on the surface like stars in the day. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me the other day, of how you find most books in your home’s library of little interest, preferring expeditions instead. I thought perhaps I might offer you some advice on a story you might enjoy.”

“Miss Hayes, the thought is kind, but do not think me rude when I say, I would be hard pressed to believe we might have similar interests in written work.”

She turned to face him, challenging the smug smile on his face. “Do you think so little of me that I might offer you a romantic tale such as _Pride & Prejudice_ or perhaps a book of poetry? Though, not to disparage those that enjoy such celebrated works. I would hope however that we had come to know each other a fair amount better than that.”

“My apologies, my Lady.”

She nodded contentedly, holding out her well-read copy of _A Study in Scarlet._ “It’s a detective story. While not my favorite in the series, it is the first and offers a view into the characters. It’s not quite a tale of expedition as you prefer, but it is adventurous nonetheless. And, I dare say, that you will not see the solution coming.”

“Is that a challenge, Miss Hayes?” His brow raised curiously. 

“Not at all, a simple fact.” Christie smirked, tilting her head confidently. “Need I remind you that I solved your family’s riddle and discovered the secret room in under a minute, while you had years to deduce the proper solution and could not? Ergo, if such a simple quest had you flustered, I imagine a tale woven so delicately as this will give you much pause.”

“Might I ever hope to live that down?” 

“I would not count on it, sir.” 

“I thought not. I shall give your detective story a chance. Of course, the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes are not foreign to me, however, I assumed its popularity was simply hysteria of the masses. For you, I shall attempt to keep an open mind.” 

“As you should! Please take care of it.” She placed the book gently in his hands, her fingers linger on the cover for a few seconds before reluctantly pulling away. “Perhaps you will find comfort in the narrator. After all, you share a name, both returned home from war, and are utterly hopeless in solving the mystery before your counterparts.” She suppressed a laugh, noting his confusion. “For Watson, Holmes… And for yourself, the brilliant sleuth beside you—me, of course.”

“Miss Hayes, you are quite refreshing in your ways. Most ladies would not be so bold. Windcroft Manor has never been so interesting.” 

“Don’t forget, I’m one of those rebel Americans after all. We know not the proper etiquette of conversation. Poor breeding and upbringing are to blame,” she teased, mimicking the posh tone of some of those at the garden party the week prior who found her American heritage to be of a disadvantage. 

“And I, the rebel, adopted son who left the war, siding against further British Imperialism. We are a pair, Miss Hayes.”

She smiled shyly at his words, before standing. He quickly matched her movement. Their stances drifted closer, until they found themselves mere inches apart. The warmth of their breath tangling between them before brushing over the other’s neck. 

Her pulse quickened, her fingers pressing against his as he held her precious book. The back of his hand was softer than she expected. She imagined lacing their fingers together, just for a moment. 

“Christie.” Her name caught in his throat. He took a step back, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. “I can’t do that to Francis.” 

“I shall take my leave.” She turned abruptly, walking away at a pace not fit for a lady. 

He made her forget herself sometimes. If only he knew that she and Francis would never marry. They had both agreed to that. Their engagement was a pretense until they could solve Amelia’s murder. Nothing more. But she couldn’t tell him, not yet at least; Francis had insisted it best John not know for his own safety. Though that fact certainly complicated matters.


End file.
